


Sing Me A Song

by rufflesofawesomeness



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufflesofawesomeness/pseuds/rufflesofawesomeness
Summary: Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane have only ever had to fend for themselves. Finding a sort of salvation in each other, feelings start to arise. What will happen between them? What will the boy king, Joffrey think as he begins to realize his dog loves the wolf he claimed for his own?





	1. Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I have worked on with Fanfiction.net, but it's been so long that the way I wanted to take the story has changed. I will continue both, but I wanted to take both versions in different directions. Link to original - written while I was in high school - can be viewed on my profile (soon).

Sansa sat in a trance as her handmaidens tended to her fresh injuries and now tangled hair, the blood clinging to her soft pink gown and underclothes as she stripped down for a much needed bath. Sinking down into the warm water, she dismissed her handmaidens, stressing the idea of wanting to be alone to her thoughts. “But my Lady-” Sansa held up a finger and glared at the four women until one-by-one they dispersed. She hadn’t meant to be so cruel, but she wasn’t in the mood to be waited on by any of Cersei’s spies any longer, her patience wearing thin with all her emotions running rampant.

The heat of the water had finally soothed Sansa enough where she could think back on what had happened in the city, just that morning. Submerging herself into the lavender scented water, thought of the riot overcame her thoughts. She could even place the look in the eyes of her attackers, now. Hate. _Those men hated me and they didn’t even know me._ The memory of being held down, the smell and hatred of those men threatened to consume her whole being before she emerged from the water, shaking her thoughts back to the present. Sansa quickly finished bathing and turned her attention to the man who had saved her from the horrors of the riot. _The Hound…_ She hadn’t even thanked him after he saved her, she had been in shock and neglected the one person who had come back for her and truly kept her alive. _He’s kept me safe since father died, not just this morning, and I haven’t said one word of gratitude!_ Berating herself, Sansa decided that she would find him and thank him as soon as she had the ability.

Sansa called for her handmaiden, Shae, to come help her dress before that evening’s feast, giving her enough time to set out in search of her true savior.

* * *

 

After what seemed like hours, Shae finally burst through the door in a frenzy. “My lady, Sansa! Is something wrong?” A look of terror strung across Shae’s face, causing Sansa to laugh.

“Shae, everything is fine. I own the Hound my thanks for that,” she mused. “I owe him not just for today, either.” She trailed off, her gaze falling on her soiled gown. It had been the one she was wearing the day her father had been killed, the same day the Hound had saved her from tossing Joffrey off the battlements when he made her stare at her father’s severed head. He had saved her from herself, yes Joffrey would have died, but she would have died, too. Her mind flashed back to the present and she sighed. “Shae, I need to look presentable for the feast tonight, and,” she motioned toward her old, torn gown. “I never want to see that again.” Distraught, Shae grabbed Sansa’s hands, lovingly. Tears welled in Sansa’s eyes as she stared at the gown. “Every time I wear it, something bad happens. I’ll take it was a sign from the gods, old and new. Maybe things will get better.”

Shae nodded solemnly, tossing the heap of fabric into the fire and sitting Sansa down in front of it to watch her bad luck burn, as Shae readied Sansa for another night with lions and her confrontation with the Hound.

* * *

“DOG!” Joffrey’s never ending need to condescend the Hound irked him. _What the fuck could he possibly need, now!?_ The Hound grunted in response, giving the bastard king the go ahead. “I have a new job for you, mother though it would be best.” A sly smile spread over Joffrey’s face, making the Hound’s urge to smash the boy’s face against the wall harder to resist, than usual. “You know the Stark girl?”

“Aye.” _Of course it’s something to do with her, you sick fuck. Can’t you leave the poor girl alone? You’ve put her through enough as it is_. It took all of his might to keep a straight face any time Joffrey brought up Sansa and this time was no different.

“Ah, well, given what happened with those ungrateful peasants this morning, I’ve decided to reassign your abilities to Sansa as her new guard. I like her pretty I’m sure you’re the one who can make sure she stays that way. I’ll be announcing it tonight at the feast.” Joffrey’s evil grin grew even wider and the Hound nodded his reply. “I have plans for her and I trust you. This may even benefit you. Now, be a good dog and fetch my lady, wolf for dinner,” he waved his dismissal to the Hound who turned his attention immediately to reaching Sansa’s chamber. New guard!? Fucking cunt. The Hound shook his head as thoughts of his little bird flashed in his mind. _What have I gotten myself into this time? What did I do to deserve this torture of having to watch him beat her into submission with the help of those knights Sansa loved so much?_ The Hound wasn’t even half way to Sansa’s chamber when he spotted her at the end of the corridor, walking with a purpose, straight toward him.

_Gods she looks beautiful._ The Hound froze at the sight of Sansa in a deep emerald gown that complemented her fiery hair and ivory skin, giving her a womanly glow. _Remember what you’re doing, dog!_ The Hound shook his head and let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he continued down the corridor as if he hadn’t seen her at all. _You’re a dog. Act as such_. He grimaced in an attempt to maintain his charade around his little bird. “Girl,” he sneered to the best of his ability. “Shouldn’t you be in your chamber? Your betrothed wouldn’t like it if you went missing right before dining.” To his surprise, Sansa rolled her eyes, frowning at the mention of Joffrey, obviously disappointed with the way their conversation had all ready taken a turn.

“Yes, because my well-being was on his mind earlier today as he sat, leaving me to those men.” She had regretted her sarcasm the moment it had escaped her lips, bracing for a strike either to her face or torso, as had been the usual punishment every time she spoke out of turn.

“Calm the fuck down, girl. I'm not one of your precious knights. I won’t hurt you, like that.” _Ever, Little Bird. I would never strike you like Ser Meryn._ “Now, tell me why you’re wandering around.” Sansa had sparked his interest and he relished the fact that she had been bold enough to be so open around him. She trusts you. _That’s a bad thing, dog. She can’t be allowed to trust anyone._ He looked down at her with pity as he realized she still believed in her fairytale knights and princes.

“I-I had been looking for you.” Sansa was wringing her hands together, losing all the confidence she may have previously possessed. “I wanted to thank you for saving me today and will, every day since my father dies. You’ve been so brave,” she trailed off, staring into his eyes, their soft grey color reminding her of home, enough to force her to look away in an attempt to regain her composure. The Hound could hear her mumbling _“focus”_ to herself as she took a few deep breaths.

“Brave?” His laugh was half a snarl. “A dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats.” The Hound hated having to be so harsh but he had to make her understand how foolish her courtesies were in this place.

Sansa hated the way he spoke, hate just rolling off his tongue whenever he opened his mouth to speak. “Does it give you joy to scare people?” Before she knew it, the Hound had her pinned against the wall his breath smelling of sour wine.

“No, it gives me joy to kill people.” Sansa turned to pull away but the Hound just put more pressure against her. “Wrinkle up your face all you like, but spare me your false piety.” The air suddenly felt cold as Sansa glared at him, their eyes locking. _Look what you’ve done, now, dog._

“Why are you always so hateful?” She was hurt at his words. She had meant it when she thanked him. “Why do you have to hurt me, so?” Tears welled in her eyes as she stared up at him. “I was trying to thank you…” She saw his eyes soften even though his face remained in its usual grimace. _She’s right, but she still doesn’t understand…_

“As if I were one of those true knights you love so well, yes.” The Hound leaned closer to her the scent of lavender radiating off of her as she fearlessly stared into his soul with her Tully eyes. “There are no true knights, girl, remember that when I’m all that’s left to stand between you and your beloved king,” he spat out, tears rolling down Sansa’s cheeks. _STOP! STOP! What the fuck are you doing, she’s going to hate you, dog._

“You’re awful.” Sansa couldn’t bear to look at him any longer and pulled her gaze away from his, her reaction causing the Hound to release her from his grasp before looking down the corridor to make sure no one had seen them.

“No, Little Bird,” he sighed. “I’m honest. It’s the world that’s awful.” He looked down at her, his grimace all but gone, a loving look threatening his facial features. “Come, it’s almost time for the feast, you don’t want to be late.” He offered his arm to Sansa and watched her as they walked in silence to the dining hall.


	2. Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is beat, yet again while Sandor is forced to watch in silence. Tyrion interrupts it, but the effects of a day of near death experience and beatings shows itself in Sansa as she retires for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, different direction. I'm thinking while I sort of keep the same line of major events, I'm going to make this version darker than I originally intended. Enjoy!

The feast in honor of Princess Myrcella had been like any other feast Sansa was forced to endure. Between Cersei’s drinking, the roaring laughter of the crowd, and Joffrey’s incessant whining, Sansa could barely find any means of enjoyment other than wandering off into her own mind, putting on a smile and maintaining her courtesies when spoken to or mentioned in conversation. As her head began to ache from the mixture of noise and wine, she focused her attention toward the Hound. From where she sat she could see the unburnt side of his face, his square jawline and long, angular nose giving him the look of the North. _Weird. The Cleganes’ are Westerners. His looks are as confusing as the man, himself._ The Hound’s unkempt hair was swept to the right, covering the scars that had once been a symbol of fear for Sansa. Her heart felt heavy as she thought of how different his life could’ve been had he not been scarred. _It’s not just his face, his heart and mind are scarred, and he’s shielded them from the world._ She was no longer afraid of the sinister man who sat before her, but rather, she pitied him. He had only ever known pain and how to take orders. _No wonder he’s referred to as a dog. He’s treated as such._

The sound of Joffrey’s voice snapped Sansa’s attention back to reality. “My lady, Wolf. After today’s little incident, I’ve decided to give you a watch dog as protection.” He gestured toward the Hound who stood and immediately came to Joffrey’s side. “Dog, when my lady is ready, escort her back to her chambers and start your new guard duty. She’s now your responsibility.” The Hound grunted in response and bowed, returning to his place in the hall. Joffrey looked back at Sansa, shock written in her expression. “Is my lady displeased,” he sneered, the annoyance in his tone rising. “Or just ungrateful of her King’s, kindness?”

Sansa shook her head, trying to find the right words so to avoid offending Joffrey, further. “I-I’m very grateful, my king!” She could tell he wasn’t buying her statement, as true as it was, and started to panic. “I’m thankful you’ve thought to protect my well-being,” she cursed herself when she realized she had come across sarcastic. _You think I would think before I spoke!_ She clenched her jaw and Joffrey nodded, looked forward as if searching for someone, a stern look spreading over his face. It seemed like hours before he looked back at her, a sly smile replacing his scold, making Sansa anxious to escape the situation.

Joffrey stood, scanning the hall once more before reaching down and taking Sansa’s hand, bringing her to the center of the dining hall. “Boros, Meryn! I’m going to require your assistance.” Joffrey released Sansa’s hand and began to circle her, looking her up and down as if inspecting some sort of property. Her hands began to shake lightly but she held herself high as he spoke again, “So my lady, wolf does not appreciate her King’s gift? Maybe she just needs a bit of persuasion.” A wicked laugh escaped his lips as Ser Meryn grabbed her, waving his permission for them to do as they liked. “Leave her face, I like her pretty.”

Boros slammed a fist into Sansa’s belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat. As he laid the flat of the blade across her thighs, she thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. Sansa screamed. Tears welled in her eyes. _It will be over soon._ She soon lost count of the blows.

“Enough,” she heard the Hound rasp. “Beating her bloody wont accomplish anything.”

Joffrey just laughed. “Quiet, dog! Ser Boros, it seems my lady is overdressed please,” he sneered. “unburden her.”

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa’s bodice and gave a hard yank while Ser Meryn held her by the hair, forcing another scream from Sansa. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel. Hare filled her eyes as she glared at Joffrey.

“What is the meaning of this!?”

* * *

 As soon as Boros had shoved his hand down Sansa’s bodice, the Hound had grasped the hilt of his sword, but by the time he had a chance to act, Sansa was all ready exposed, her ivory breasts glowing against the emerald fabric that had once been her gown. _Fucking bastards._ He had begun moving toward Ser Boros, drawing his sword when the Imp, Tyrion had stormed in, temporarily ceasing Sansa’s torment. _A little late._

“What is the meaning of this!?” Tyrion’s voice echoed throughout the hall as he approached Joffrey, followed by his raggedy sellsword, Bronn. He called for someone to cover Sansa and before the king could protest, the Hound ripped off his kingsguard cloak and wrapped it Sansa in it, meeting her gaze as she smiled a small _‘thank you’._ He returned to his previous spot, eyeing the hall as Tyrion scolded the king and threatened Ser Meryn. Noe one person other than himself and Tyrion had protested Sansa’s ridicule and he swore to himself that he would make sure they all suffered the same way his little bird had. _Fucking corrupt milk-drinkers. Can’t even stand up for one of their own._ His attention returned to Tyrion as Joffrey screamed his objection to Tyrion’s interference in the situation.

“I am your KING! I can do as I please,” Joffrey’s voice cracked and he pointed at the distraught girl at the center of the room. “That bitch is ungrateful of her king’s mercy and kindness AND she is of traitor’s blood! She deserves to be punished.” The Hound could see the coming tantrum forming in Joffrey’s face and gave Tyrion an alarming look, hoping he would acknowledge it. _Fucking bastard, get her out of here!_

“Clegane, take Lady Sansa to her chambers, please,” Tyrion nodded at the Hound before glaring at Joffrey. “I need to educate my nephew on the makings of a decent king!” The Hound scooped Sansa into her arms and walked out of the dining hall, holding the sobbing girl close as Joffrey shrieked his usual insults back and forth between his uncle and Sansa.

* * *

 Sansa didn’t speak until they reached the door to her chamber, looking around to make sure it was safe to speak freely. “Thank you,” she muttered. “No one else would’ve stood up for me.” Tears welled in her eyes again and she looked down, wringing her hands together. _All I do is cry. When will it end?_ Taking a deep breath, Sansa blinked her tears away and locked eyes with the Hound. “C-can I keep the cloak?” she hugged it close, taking in its warmth and scent, forcing a raspy laugh from the Hound.

“Aye, little bird,” he smirked down at her, “you can keep it. Now go get cleaned up.” Sansa turned to open her chamber door before looking back.

“What do I call you? You’re going to be spending a lot of time around me, and I-I’m not a monster, like Joffrey,” Sansa sighed and looked down, uncertain of her own intentions. “W-what do I call you…?” The Hound had never had anyone ask what he wanted, the shock causing him to freeze, a look of confusion spreading over both of their faces. Sansa started to fidget, avoiding the Hound’s gaze, “I’m not comfortable calling you ‘dog’ or ‘the Hound.’ You’re a person, not an animal. I want to treat you as such.” Sansa grasped his hand before thinking about it and gave him a hopeful look.

The Hound gasped and locked eyes with Sansa. “J-Just call me Sandor- but Dog when around the King, girl,” he spoke softly, running his thumb over the top of her hand. “And what do you want me to call you?” Sansa smiled before turning back to her door, a blush flowing over her face.

“I’ll always be your little bird… Sandor.” She mouthed his name a few more times before opening her chamber door. “Goodnight, Sandor.” He nodded, staring at her door after he heard it click closed.

“Goodnight, Little Bird.”

* * *

 The moment Sansa stepped into her room, Shae was by her side, searching for any fresh injuries. “Was it Joffrey, again?” Sansa just nodded, her thoughts focused on the tingly feeling on the top of her hand and the ease she felt with Sandor rather than the events during the feast. Shae helped Sansa undress for, yet another, bath to sooth her nerves. Sinking into the water, Sansa sighed, relief spreading over her all ready bruising body. The purples and greens forming on her wrists and belly. _A reminder of where I am. I’ll wear them with pride around Joffrey and his courtly nobles._

“I can’t believe you are forced through this, Milady. It’s disgusting that such a small man can treat you like the filth he is.” Shae shook her head, scowling as she pulled Sansa’s hair down from the messy southern style and down into a braid. “A lady should not be beaten, let alone where the entire court can see. He’s lucky he’s alive for such an insult to you and your family.”

“What family, Shae? My father is dead, my mother and brother are fighting a war that they wont win, who knows how Bran and Rickon are, and what of Arya, as I have heard nothing, and what about Jon? He’s at the Wall. Probably hasn’t heard any of this at such an odd place.” Sansa stood from her bath, catching the view of welts on her thighs, up to her lower back in the mirror. _They will bruise just as badly as the rest of me. So be it_. She sighed and pulled on a robe before shifting toward her bed. “This is not as bad as it could have been and believe me, it could have been worse had Tyrion not walked in to save me from my beloved Joffrey.” Sansa sat and waved her hand. “Shae, I’m tired, as much as I appreciate you, I need to be alone with my thoughts.”

Shae nodded slowly, leaving Sansa’s nightgown at the foot of her bed before leaving her to the silence of the night. Looking out the window, Sansa considered the severity of her situation. _Beaten, bruised, broken… Father is dead, and it’s my fault this is just the punishment for it. I could have died today, I could die today, gods-willing._ She looked down the height of her window before deciding to finally retire for the night, pulling herself away from thoughts she knew she ought not act on if she had any hope or love for her family left. _That sort of death would give them satisfaction, Sansa. You are a Stark. You will survive this~ You have Sandor as a sort of protector, now, and Lord Tyrion won’t stand for anymore of this._ Sansa sighed softly as darkness carried her into repeat nightmares from the day’s events.


	3. Flowered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has finally flowered, along with her new womanhood she discovers a power she's had within her.

_The mob surged around Sansa, shrieking, a maddened beast with a thousand faces. Everywhere she turned she saw faces twisted into monstrous inhuman masks. She wept and told them she had never done them hurt, yet they dragged her from her horse all the same. “No,” she cried, “no, please don’t, don’t!” But no one paid her any heed. She shouted for Sandor, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, but none of them came. Women swarmed over her like weasels, pinching her legs and kicking her in the belly, and someone hit her in the face and she felt her teeth shatter. Then she saw the bright glimmer of steel. The knife plunged into her belly and tore and tore and tore, until there was nothing left of her down there but shiny wet ribbons._

Sansa awoke in a panic, the early morning light giving her surroundings an eerie but familiar glow. _It was just a dream._ Sansa sat up, a sharp pain in her abdomen and foreign stickiness between her legs. _Oh Gods._ Frantic, she pulled off the bed coverings revealing large blotches of red spread over her bedding. “Oh gods, no, no, please no!” Sansa jumped up, grabbing a knife to try and hack away any evidence of the unforgiving sight. “No,” she screamed in frustration and began to sob with helplessness as Shae ran into her chamber.

“My lady, what-” she paused at the sight of the devastated girl clutching a knife as if for support. “Sansa, what did you do” Shae looked her over for any injuries, noticing the blood on the back of her nightgown. “Sansa, did you-”

A loud sob burst from Sansa as she pointed at her ruined bedding. “I can bear Joffrey’s children.” A look of panic spread over her face. She rushed over to Sansa’s bed reaching under her feather mattress.

“Help me flip it!” Sansa joined her side but as they lifted it to its side, another one of Sansa’s handmaidens walked in, saw the blood and turned the other way to report to Cersei.

“No,” Sansa whimpered, desperate to keep her flowering a secret.

“Stay here,” Shae ran after the handmaiden, pulling her knife out as she pinned the maid to the wall. “You say anything, and I’ll slit your throat myself. Understand?” The maid nodded, fear stricken. Shae ran back to Sansa as fast as she could but as she got closer she heard Sansa’s sobs, again. Sandor was standing next to the sobbing girl, a look of pity on his face.

* * *

Sandor had been returning from his breakfast when he heard a bloodcurdling scream. _Sansa!_ He charged to her room, praying to whatever gods were listening that Ser Meryn or Joffrey hadn’t gotten to her. As he reached the corridor where her rooms were located, he saw one of Cersei’s spies run out of the room quickly followed by Tyrion’s lover, Shae, running after her with a purpose, a knife grasped in her hands. _What the hell…_

Sandor stopped for a moment when he heard Sansa crying again, as he entered her room he saw her sitting at the edge of her bed, her bedding red with blood. _Oh Gods…_ “Sansa,” he treaded carefully, trying not to alarm her. Sansa looked up at him, her eyes swollen with tears as she stood up. “Little bird did you…?” She nodded motioning toward the blood, another sob escaping her lips.

“Sandor, what do I do. I don’t want his children.” She looked back at him, helpless in her situation. “He’s a monster. I can’t…” she ran into his embrace, sobbing loudly. Sandor set her down on the edge of her bed and took her hand.

“Little Bird, you need to tell the queen. I know more than any of these fuckers that if she even suspects you tried to hide this, she’ll take your head like Joffrey did your father’s.” He hated having to convince her to reveal such a terrible sign of womanhood to the one person who would ruin her life permanently, but he didn’t want to see her suffer for something as silly as her flowering. “You need to tell so you can live, I’ll go with you, little bird.” He stood as Shae entered the room, looking at Sansa with heavy eyes. _Cersei needs to hear it from Sansa’s lips._

* * *

 Queen Cersei was breaking her fast when Sansa was ushered into her solar. “Sansa, sit, please,” the queen said graciously. “Are you hungry?” She gestured at the table. There was porridge, honey, milk, boiled eggs, and crisp fried fish.

The sight of the food made Sansa ill. “No, thank you. Your Grace.”

“I don’t blame you. Between my son and the threat of Stannis Baratheon on Joffrey’s throne, I can barely eat, myself. And now you’ve bled, you’re cutting through your silk bedding. What did you hope to accomplish, little dove?” Sansa was frozen, her anxiety slowly rising, the knot in her stomach sending a sharp pain through her body.

Sansa lowered her head. “The blood frightened me.”

“The blood is a sign of your womanhood, you flowered, no more. You think your mother would have prepared you.” Cersei simply smiled at Sansa, amusement obvious in her body language. “What did you expect, little dove?”

Sansa had never felt less flowery and began to wring her hands in anticipation. _My mother would have prepared me if you hadn’t taken my father’s head and let us go home_. “I just thought it would be less…messy.” A deep laugh escaped Cersei’s lips as Sansa spoke.

“Wait until you birth a child, Sansa. A woman’s life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you’ll learn that soon enough with Joffrey, and the parts that look like magic often turn out to be the messiest of all.” She took a sip of wine. _How fitting that she would be drinking. Is there any time of day where she doesn’t have wine?_ “So now you are a woman. Do you have the least idea of what that means?”

“It means that I am fit to be wedded and bedded; to bear children for the king.”

Cersei gave a wry smile. “An idea that no longer excites you as it once did. I understand. I was the same way with Robert.” She continued, going off on a tangent about her children and her late husband, but Sansa hadn’t heard much of it. She could hardly focus on anything with the pain in her stomach, but was brought back to the conversation when Cersei addressed her. “Here’s a piece of advice, little dove. Love no one but the children you bear. It makes you stupid and weak.” She looked down at her wine, the memory of her dead husband forcing a larger smile on her face.

“But shouldn’t I love the king? Doesn’t everyone want to be loved?” Sansa knew the answer to her questions. She could never love him again. Ever since that day on the Trident where Arya had wounded Joffrey, he had hated Sansa. She knew that his hate had been what set hers in motion. Joffrey didn’t want to be loved, he wanted to be feared and he had instilled that fear and hatred in Sansa.

Cersei sighed. “You can try, little dove. Love is a sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same, try and remember that.” Sansa nodded, looking down once more before Cersei dismissed her.

_If love makes you weak, why am I still here? I love my family, do I not?_ She didn’t believe Cersei’s poisonous words and smiled to herself as she left, Sandor joining her as she exited the Queen’s solar.

“Well that wasn’t too eventful.” Sansa’s sudden outburst made Sandor laugh, his raspy voice calming her nerves. “She thinks I’m stupid but I understand her game.” She trailed off into thought, growing quiet.

“Best keep her ignorant of that fact, little bird.” Sandor could see that something was bugging Sansa. “You have something on your mind? You’re awful quiet. You’re never quiet.”

Sansa shrugged. “I’m just in pain.”   _Keep up the façade. That’s how you survive here. Play her game._ A small smile planted itself on her lips. _The wolf rises._


	4. The Blackwater Ignites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Sansa are placed in different situations in the midst of Stannis Baratheon's attack on King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning- I will obviously not really be keeping to the book or the show as I continue through this, but events will pan out relatively the same.

The Great Hall was a mess, even in all of its splendor. With lit fires and shining weapons showing themselves; everyone running around in a fit of confusion before the coming battle with Stannis Baratheon and his forces. Sansa was standing in the center of it all with Shae, silently praying for all the men who poured themselves unknowingly into a battle they couldn’t win. It was known that Stannis Baratheon had brought one of the greatest forces King’s Landing had ever had to fight against and that the odds of winning such a hopeless battle was slim to none. Turning to Shae, she sighed. “My Lady? What’s wrong?” Sansa shook her head and motioned around her.

“This. It’s sad, almost pathetic. They’re going to be fighting for a king who would rather watch them starve to death than help his people while he is kept in the safety and comfort of his castle – well fed, mind you, and are doing it willingly, it’s ridiculously stupid.” Sansa frowned, her mood sour. “It’s a waste.” Shae simply nodded before resting her head on Sansa’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it Sansa. You have other things to focus on.”

“Oh, yes. I get to sit in Maegor’s Holdfast to be tortured by Cersei. She thinks I’m stupid. I don’t understand why she wants me there. All she’ll do is insult me and my family.” Sansa’s annoyance with the Queen Regent had spiked since their last conversation, and Sansa had tried to avoid her at all costs, blaming her pain for her absence. _I don’t want to have to sit there and be insulted all the while playing the game, especially with the way I’m feeling._ She sighed, again, acknowledging the fact that she had no choice and braced for what would probably be the longest night of her life.

“Sansa!” The King’s boyish shout rang throughout the hall, Joffrey had seen her. “Sansa! Here!” _He calls me as if he were calling a dog. How appropriate._ Sansa threaded her way through a file of gold-cloaked spearmen as Joffrey beckoned her closer. “The battle will begin soon, everyone says so.”

“May the gods have mercy on us all.” Sansa curtsied, a frown permanently etched in her face as she kept her gaze down.

“My Uncle is the one who will need mercy, not that he will receive any.” He drew his sword, swinging it around a couple times before looking back at Sansa. “What do you think of my new blade, I call it Hearteater.” _He named his sword before he used it? I thought swords were named for their deeds in battle._ A small smile formed on Sansa’s lips as she thought of Joffrey’s old sword, Lion’s Tooth. Her little sister had disarmed him and thrown it into the river. _If a little girl could disarm him…_ “It is beautifully wrought, Your Grace.” She held back a laugh and gave her most sincere smile to the boy king.

“Bless my steel with a kiss, my lady, wolf.” He extended the lade down to her. “GO on, kiss it.” The steel was cold on Sansa’s lips, but the gesture seemed to please Joffrey, much to Sansa’s satisfaction. “I’ll let you kiss it again when I return, and taste by Uncle’s blood.” _If one of your knights kills him with your sword, maybe._

“So, you will be leading the men into battle? It is said my brother always goes where the battle is thickest,” she said recklessly. “Though he is older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown.”

That made him frown. _STUPID! Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? This is not the game, Sansa._ She had immediately regretted saying anything at all as Joffrey spoke about killing her brother before stalking off.

“Maybe, he’ll fall in battle, Sansa.” Shae held her hand as Sansa laughed.

“No, he’ll come back. The worst one’s always do.”

* * *

“Do they?” Sandor’s raspy voice startled Sansa, causing her to laugh. “And what if I come back from this shit? Would that make me the worst kind of person?” She fanned her hand toward her face to offset the heat of the crowded hall, eyeing Joffrey as he took to the exit of the great hall. _That, right there, is the worst kind…_

Sansa scoffed and folded her arms together. The two had become relatively comfortable with one another since he had walked in on her post-menstrual breakdown a few days prior. “They do, Hound. Just you see, and no, that doesn’t necessarily mean you. I meant knights, kings, noblemen that do things for the title.” Sansa gave a genuine smile as Sandor laughed at her sarcasm.

“Aye, you’re learning, girl. And thank you, I hope you’ll pray to your old gods and new that I make it through this shit storm.” Sandor chuckled before taking his leave of Sansa at Joffrey’s call.

“All rise for Her Grace, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent and Protector of the Realm,” the royal steward cried. Sansa had arrived late and had still been in attendance before the queen, the idea making her fight the urge to roll her eyes as Cersei glided into Maegor’s Holdfast as if nothing was happening on the outside of the castle walls, a look of disgust on her face as she took her place on the dais, her attention turning immediately to Sansa.

“You look pale, Sansa,” Cersei observed. “Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“How apt. The men will bleed out there, and you in here.” A smirk barely visible on her perfect lips.

“Why is Ser Ilyn here?” Sansa blurted out, disturbing the new found quiet in the room. The queen gestured toward the barred doors at the end of the hall, almost laughing at Sansa’s comment.

“To deal with treason. When axes smash down those doors, you may end up thanking him for his service.” Sansa nodded before speaking without thorough thought, again, asking about the guards on post and whether or not they had the ability to keep them safe, Ser Ilyn giving her a wary feeling. “Loyal sellswords are as rare as virgin whores, Sansa. Don’t be so daft.” The queen quickly turned her attention to the wine provided her by the servants in the room, giving Sansa the chance to focus on praying for the lives the king and his mother were so willing to waste.

Kneeling in prayer with the others, Sansa’s thoughts roamed toward the imposing battle and the threats surrounding her.  _Maybe jumping out of that window would have been better. Better than this. Then, at least, Sandor wouldn't be stuck watching after me and Joffrey wouldn't be able to get to me, and Lord Tyrion wouldn't have to put his life at risk to stop Joffrey. No, I have to play the game, I have to keep my spirits up- For mother and Rob, for Sandor..._

“Sansa,” Cersei’s voice rang through Sansa’s head. _All ready?_ “Come here, Little Dove.” Sansa stood and sat at Cersei’s side. “What are you doing?”

“Praying, Your Grace.”

“Oh, you’re just perfect, aren’t you? What exactly are you praying for?’

“For the gods to have mercy on us all.”

“On all of us? Including me? What about Joffrey?” Cersei narrowed her eyes at Sansa, studying her as if she were looking for a reason to berate the girl.

“I love Joffrey with all my-”

“Oh, do shut up. I learned a long time ago that prayer is a waste of a time. The gods don’t listen. They watch and wait for us to do what we always do, fail. You don’t get anything out of praying, only out of action. Here,” she handed Sansa a glass of wine. “Drink.” Sansa didn’t question it and drank until she felt lightheaded, her mind wandering once again to the man who said he had loved her. _I hope he’s okay… He needs to be alive._

* * *

It had all happened so fast. One second, Joffrey and his uncle, Tyrion had been bickering like two spoilt children and the next, Blackwater Bay was glowing green with Wildfire. Sandor’s scars started to twitch and his anxiety spiked at the sight of the flames. _For fucks sake. IT HAD TO BE FIRE!_ He closed his eyes and sighed, the boy king laughing hysterically as the enemy burned. _Just focus, dog. You have a bigger cause, now. A song bird prays for you to the buggering gods._ He had been thinking about how to keep Sansa safe in the midst of the current disaster, but now his thoughts were focused solely on the green flames that threatened to break him. _Fire…._

Half of Stannis’s fleet was ablaze, the wildfire spreading between both the enemy’s ships along with what was left of Joffrey’s own naval force, and yet dark shapes were still moving through the charred ruins of the riverfront towards the Mud Gate. Tyrion and Joffrey started arguing when a runner came panting up the steps.

“My lord, hurry!” He threw himself to one knee in front of Joffrey. “Stannis’s forces have landed on the tourney grounds, hundreds! They’re bringing a ram up to the King’s Gate.”

Sandor heard Tyrion curse before he pointed his stubby finger at Sandor. “You. You’re going to command those forces! Now go!” Sandor grunted, leading the boy king straight into danger, giddy giggles escaping Joffrey’s mouth at the idea of killing his uncle’s men.

_BOOM!_ Joffrey’s nervous scream echoed over the battlements. “What are they doing!? Kill them all!!” His voice cracked as another hit on the gates from the ram echoed through the gatehouse square. The groaning of the hinges on the gates sounded like the moans of a dying giant, sending Joffrey into yet another fit. “Dog! Stop them!” Sandor rolled his eyes, sending men out to meet Stannis’s in the green light.


	5. The Boy King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck the King.   
> Joffrey is forced away from the threat of battle and Sansa flees Maegor's Holdfast.

There was blood everywhere. All over the beach, the men, in Sandor’s eyes as he swiped through more and more men, defending the King’s gate. Joffrey and his uncle, Tyrion, were up on the battlements, shouting orders down at the men as if they weren’t watching their own allies fall at the hands of Baratheon soldiers. Sandor had been leading what was left of the Red Keep’s forces in and out of battle for the last few hours and the carnage never seemed to lull. _Keep fighting, dog. You can’t let these fuckers win._ His sword arm was sore and everywhere he turned, it seemed the green glow of Wildfire was reaching out to him. “Retreat!” Sandor pulled his forces back, again and stormed into the battlements demanding wine.

Tyrion was standing at the top of the battlements, screaming at the men retreating to the square. “What do you think you are doing!?” Sandor gulped down the wine given to him and eyed the dwarf. “Get back out there, dog!”

“No.” Sandor wrenched off his helm with both hands and let it fall to the ground. The steel was scorched and dented, the left ear of the snarling hound sheared off. A gash above one eye had sent a wash of blood down across Sandor’s old burn scars, masking half his face.

“Yes.” Tyrion faced him.

Sandor’s breath came ragged. “Bugger that. And you.”

Bronn stepped forward beside him. “We’ve been out. Three times. Half our men are killed or hurt. Wildfire bursting all around us, horses screaming like men and men like horses. This is folly-”

“Do you think we hired you to fight in a tourney? Shall I bring you a nice iced milk and a bowl of raspberries? No? Then get on your fucking horse. You too, dog. The King’s Hand commands you.”

“Bugger the King’s Hand. And bugger this city.” The blood on Sandor’s face glistened red as he spoke against the dwarf. Tyrion’s face went white at Sandor’s sudden outburst. Even for the man known as The Hound, that was uncalled for. Tyrion nodded and looked up at Joffrey, sighing heavily before starting down the steps to the square.

“Someone bring my helmet! They’ve taken a ram to the gate, you can hear them, we need to disperse them. I will lead the sortie, dog. You stay and guard Joffrey. That is your title after all, no?” Sandor grunted and found his way to Joffrey’s side, _fuck the king_ , fear etched in the boy king’s face as he watched his dwarf uncle lead the sortie back on to the beach. 

* * *

Joffrey scanned the battle on the beach, scanning for his uncle Tyrion, whether he was alive or dead was unknown. _Mother would’ve liked to be out here for this._ It was no secret that the Queen Regent and her younger brother had never gotten along and had, at most times wished each other dead, but this would’ve done it for that feud.

“Mother wanted him to fight in your place, anyway. Good thing you chickened out, right, dog?” Sandor grunted down at the boy, his eyes kept on the battle. _Good dog._ Joffrey smiled to himself and continued the search for Tyrion. _How hard can it be to find a man of his stature!?_ He had been looking for what seemed like hours before he saw his uncle’s tiny body spread out on the beach. “Look there, Tyrion’s spread out on the beach! Is he moving!?” He pointed down at what seemed like a lifeless body of the Lannister lord before Sandor grabbed him, pulling him away from the battlements.

“What!? NO! I have to know if that creature is dead! Mother will be delighted!” Sandor’s grasped tightened and before Joffrey could protest further, he was back in the Red Keep, Sandor locking every door behind them.

“Then you will have the chance to tell her, but you aren’t getting killed out there.” Sandor set Joffrey down and drew his sword. “If he is dead, the men will rally against you. He was what was keeping that sortie together. If you were right and that little man is dead, then so are you unless we get you to safety. Go to Maegor’s Holdfast, now.” Sandor put his ear against the door before shoving Joffrey through. “Go, now. Tell the Queen Regent what has happened.”

It was the first time Sandor had ever ordered the Boy King around, the sting of his words left Joffrey speechless, he simply nodded and headed for Maegor’s Holdfast to inform his mother of her most recent victory and impending doom. _The men will rise up against me? Then they will fall, we will not._

As Joffrey drew closer to Maegor’s Holdfast, his thoughts switched to what awaited him with his mother and those she had invited to feast with her. _Sansa… The bitch is there with the others._ A smile stretched across his face as he opened the door, his mother and her guests gaping at the sight of the Boy King. _Time to have some fun._

“Mother, I have news.”

* * *

Joffrey’s presence had startled everyone as he burst in to inform the Queen Regent of what was happening outside the safety of Maegor’s Holdfast. The women and children present were all quiet as they strained to gain any sort of information that would give them hope of lasting the night. Sansa herself was curious, but had an easier time listening as she was motioned forward by a now smiling Cersei.

“I’m sure he’s dead, he wasn’t moving. He led the sortie after the Hound, but the men still seem to be getting pushed back by Stannis and his men. I’m sure we will be fine, but you should know that our men are dying faster than Stannis’ are landing on the beach, with Tyrion dead and the Hound not out in the sortie fighting, I don’t know how things will turn o— ” Sansa’s presence silenced Joffrey who looked her up and down. _They couldn’t mean that both Tyrion and Sandor have fallen… He would be fighting out there if he weren’t._ Sansa’s face went white as she thought of Sandor lying on the battlefield, lifeless. She would be alone and he would have died alone. “Still flowering my lady? Or just worried for your King? No need, I’m fine, don’t need to look so pale, now.” He sneered at her before giving the Queen Regent space with Sansa.

“I’m sorry, little Dove. He has blood lust, like all true heroes. Now, I need to ask if you can keep these mice busy whilst I go for a moment? Ser Ilyn will keep an eye on all of you, no worries.” Sansa nodded, looking at the women and children in the room. _She invited them here and has such little regard for them, and the men who are fighting to keep her position safe._ She looked back at the Cersei and smiled small.

“Of course, Your Grace. I’m sure there are more important things compared to these mice that you need to attend to.” She gave the sincerest smile she could muster and curtsied as Cersei rose out of her seat and strode through the door.

“Thank you, little Dove. Good luck.” With a sly smile, the Queen Regent motioned to Joffrey before closing the doors to Maegor’s Holdfast, leaving Sansa with the women and Joffrey.

“Mistress Sansa, what is going on? Where is she going??” Panic started to spread amongst the ladies like wildfire when the doors closed. Sansa sat them down, trying to keep her own composure around the fear struck women.

“Her Grace has an important matter to attend to, why don’t we sing in prayer for those who are fighting for us?” Sansa started a song to the Mother as the women started to join in, she found Shae, pulling her aside. “Cersei left and the last thing I heard was that Tyrion and Sandor may have been killed.” Sansa felt Shae stiffen before she hugged her tight. “What do we do? Joffrey is here, he survived just like I said and now we may both be missing those we love. And Cersei left Ser Ilyn here, to do gods know what…” Sansa shut her eyes, holding back tears she couldn’t shed in front of everyone, especially Joffrey.

“If what you say is correct and they are gone, you are in danger, Sansa.” Shae pulled Sansa toward the doors to exit Maegor’s Holfast out of Joffrey’s sight, the women still spread out and singing in prayer.

_Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_Save our sons from war, we pray,_

_Stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

_Let them know a better day._

“You heard the Queen, before? Loyal Sellswords don’t exist. If you stay here and we lose, you’ll be in the worst place possible for a Lady of your title. You need to run and get to safety. Lock yourself in your room and do not let anybody in, do you understand?” Sansa nodded as she was pushed out of Maegor’s Holdfast before grabbing Shae’s arm.

“What about you?” Shae lifted up her skirt, revealing a knife strapped to her thigh. Nobody will hurt me. You need to go, my lady. Be swift.” Sansa bit her lip and turned around, running to her room as Shae shut the door to Maegor’s Holdfast. _Get to your room and lock the door. Get to your room and lock the door. Get to your room and lock the door.._

* * *

_What in the Seven Hells!?_ Joffrey had been keeping an eye on Sansa since his mother left, she had been singing in prayer with the “ladies” of the court and then suddenly vanished. He eyed Shae as she walked away from the doors leading away from Maegor’s Holdfast before he realized what had happened. _She’s going to make a run for it. Oh, this is too good._

Joffrey hurried past Ser Ilyn and out the door, chasing after her. _Let’s see what the bitch has planned, tonight._ He entered the corridor that led to her bedchamber when he found the Hound entering her bedchamber. _Ah, the dog aches for a bitch._ He inched closer to Sansa’s rooms, straining to listen to the commotion inside.

* * *

Sandor had been standing guard by Maegor’s Holdfast for what felt like an eternity as he thought of his little bird. _She’s in there. She’s with Joffrey but she’s safe, for now. Just have to keep her that way, dog._ His eyes scanned up and down the corridor, keeping a look out for anyone or anything unfriendly when he saw the glittery flow of green and silver fabric. _What…?_ As he stalked closer to the moving figure, he caught a glimpse of bright red hair. _Sansa! What is she doing!?_ Sandor looked behind him, making sure nobody had seen either of them before chasing after her, himself.

Sandor had stayed quiet behind Sansa as he followed her, keeping her safe as she ran to her bedchamber. _Smart girl._ He knocked softly on the door when he was sure nobody was close. “Little Bird, its Sandor, let me in. You’re safe.”


	6. Warmth and a Knighthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey decides to set Sansa's path toward yet another betrothal to an unknown, and gives Sandor a gift he would have been happy to live without.

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Sandor outside her bedchamber. “Oh, thank the gods, I thought you were dead.” She stepped aside letting him in before she shut and barred the door. “Joffrey had been talking about Lord Tyrion leading the sortie in your place and made no other mention, I was stupid to think they would have killed you.”

“They almost did, lass.” He stepped away from her and opened the curtains to her balcony. Outside, a swirling lance of jade light spit at the stars, filling the room with a green glare. Sansa saw his face for a moment, all black and green, the blood on his face black as tar. “That damned fire almost did me in. If it weren’t for Tyrion taking over and me watching over that brat king, I would be dead.” Sansa looked at his face in horror before rushing to her washbowl to get a wet cloth, raising it to his face, the stench of alcohol and death hitting her like the flat of a blade to her stomach.

“And what of Lord Tyrion? Joffrey didn’t mention if he was alive or not. I was so worried.” Sandor sad silence rang through the room as the little Lord’s name was brought up and Sansa said a silent prayer for Tyrion. _By the old gods and the new, he can’t be dead… show him mercy._ The room was too dark to see him completely, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood being washed away from Sandor’s face as she continued her silent prayers. When she was sure that it was all gone, she sat him down and returned to the balcony, watching the green glow in horror. “It seems Tyrion has been doing a lot of saving, lately. And you didn’t die, and you came to me, but why?” Her curiosity was eating at her, but given the condition Sandor had come to her, she couldn’t rush his answers.

An overwhelming silence overtook Sansa’s small bedchamber as Sandor struggled to find an answer to such a simple question. “I-I suppose it was because you’re my charge, Little Bird. Keeping you safe is what I said I’d do.”

_An obvious lie._ Sansa shook her head and sighed, glancing up at him before returning her attention out her balcony window. “I see. Well, I thank you for your vigilance.” She felt a twinge of disappointment in her heart, quickly shaking it away as a roar began to tower over and into the Red Keep.

The first faint hint of dawn was visible in the east, as they heard men cheering. “Is it over then?” Sansa smiled at Sandor and pulled him over to the balcony. The shouting of Tyrell and Lannister men rung through the Red Keep. “And Joffrey has prevailed...” Sansa’s smiled faded as she gripped Sandor’s hand. “Which means… I still have to marry him.”

* * *

The throne room was a sea of nobles as Sandor watched from his place by Joffrey’s throne. The Tyrell and Lannister armies had charged into battle at the last minute and saved the city from Stannis Baratheon. Joffrey had succeeded and didn’t even have to lift a finger. Lord Tywin Lannister made a spectacle of himself as the boy king proclaimed his grandfather Savior of the City and Hand of the King.

Sandor stood silent as the ceremonies continued, scanning the room for Sansa. _She said she loved you back, dog. What in the Seven Hells are you going to do?_ He found her among the other noble women of the Court in the gallery, above Joffrey’s throne. She had a grim look on her face as she watched the ceremonies before she caught Sandor’s gaze and smiled small. Their gaze held for a few seconds before a tumult of cheering filled the throne room, pulling them from each other. Cries of _“Margaery, Margaery”_ as Joffrey had decided to cast Sansa aside and take Margaery Tyrell as his wife.

Sandor looked back at Sansa, the obvious signs of relief on her face. _Lucky girl. Don’t give him the satisfaction of a smile, Little Bird._ He watched as Sansa was called to the front of the gallery, her face flushed and eyes cast down. Tension filled the room as Joffrey and the Queen Regent dismissed Sansa from her previous engagement, deciding to keep her in the Red Keep. _As collateral most like. Her brother is causing one hell of a problem for the bastard._ He watched as she made her way out of the room and gave a sigh of relief. _One step away from death at the hands of this bastard, Little Bird._

* * *

Sansa felt curiously light-headed. _I am free._ She could feel eyes upon her. _I must not smile,_ she reminded herself. She knew that no matter what she felt inside, the face she showed the world must look distraught. “I will not have my son humiliated,” Cersei said. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes. But if I’m not to be queen, what will become of me.” She caught Sandor’s eyes and again fought the urge to smile at her sudden luck. _He looks as relieved as I am._ They held their gaze for a second and she felt her heart quicken. She felt her face begin to burn and returned her attention to the nobility in front of her before anyone could notice.

“That will need to be determined. For the moment, you will remain here.” Cersei sat at her place by Joffrey’s throne, the court continued with its business. “Little Dove, I suggest you keep to your normal ways, a decision will be made soon. Do not get too comfortable.” With a wave of his hand, Joffrey dismissed her, moving to more important affairs.

The light outside the windows was fading into night by the time the session drew to a close. Sansa felt limp with exhaustion as she made her way down from the gallery. She wondered how Joffrey had managed to set his favorite toy aside without even a second thought. _Sandor must be as relieved as I am. One less person he needs to worry about hurting me now that he has a new girl to torture._ She straightened her stature and walked with her head up to seem as if it took energy to seem okay after being tossed aside by the most powerful man in the realm. “Sansa. I must say I am so sorry for that embarrassment.” Sansa stopped mid-step, closing her eyes at the sound of Petyr Baelish’s voice.

She spun around, her head kept down and hands folded together as the middle-aged Master of Coin approached her, stopping at an uncomfortable close distance from Sansa. “It was right for my King to set me aside. I am but the daughter of a traitor, Lord Baelish. Not worthy of his great hand,” she stuttered along as she tried to keep a serious face.

Petyr smiled and looked around, “I wouldn’t say such things in that tone, Sansa. You have a look of relief on your face and the sound of it rolls off your tongue. You can be read like a book.” He sniffed before stepping closer, taking her arm in his as he led her through the halls of the Red Keep toward her chambers. _Read me like a book. Perfect._ Sansa’s expression fell as Lord Baelish continued, “Look around, you, Sansa. We’re all liars here, and every one of us is better than you. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you can learn to be a better liar than them, play the game the right way.” As they reached her chambers, Petyr turned Sansa toward him and took a step back, “Do not let yourself get lost in this small victory. You aren’t free, yet. You’ll see that soon enough.” Sansa nodded shortly, thanking him before he took his leave of her. _Everyone is a better liar than me…. we’ll see._

 In the safety of her chambers, Sansa took a sigh of relief and let herself smile. _I don’t have to marry that monster!_ She sat soaking in the thought of the small taste of freedom she was handed when a knock on her chamber door brought her back to reality, realizing she should have been preparing for dinner. _By the Old Gods and the new, Sansa. DON’T SMILE!_ She quickly opened the door to find Sandor, her heart stopped for a minute as she realized she would still have to attend meals and court affairs, still within Joffrey’s grasp. _Not free, just… separated enough to follow Lord Baelish’s advice. Far enough to play the game._

* * *

Sandor gazed at Sansa for what seemed the fifth time in the short celebratory dinner that was being held for the King’s victory and new engagement. While he was relieved that Sansa wouldn’t have to marry the monster, still, he knew she wasn’t safe and felt compelled to try as keep her as far away from harm as he could. _Why do you care, dog?_ The question had been plaguing him since the fiery girl had asked him why he went to her room in the midst of the battle. Why did he go there? Why did he care? _Something is wrong with you… She’s doing something to you, damned Starks._

 “Dog,” Joffrey pulled Sandor from his thoughts, grunting in response to the incessant needs of the Boy King. “I have no need of you tonight, but I would like you to guard Lady Stark’s chamber, tonight. Given the battle did not end in her favor, I need to make sure our lady stays put. Nobody goes in or out without me hearing of it. I have upcoming plans for her” Sandor grunted in response before taking his place at the end of the table again. _Seven hells._

* * *

Two Weeks Later:

“Joffrey, you can’t be serious.” Cersei had never heard such a horrid plan come from her eldest son’s mind, before and now she stared at him in shock. “Sansa STARK is heir to the North! She is high-ranking lady; you can’t marry her to that monster!”

“Oh, but I can and I will.” Joffrey scoffed at his mother. _He is trying to get us killed. We need the stupid girl!_ “You need to understand that it’s the best for the Stark bitch, and it’s the best way to hold our place in the North whilst keeping her here.” Joffrey sat, glaring at his mother. “Well…? Any other objections?”

“If his Grace thinks it best, although I do not agree. It seems such a waste for the little dove. I’m sure the small counsel would think the same of your choice of a husband for Sansa, especially your grandfather.” Cersei eyed her son as he rolled his eyes. _Roll your eyes, Joffrey. You’re my darling boy but not everything can happen your way and result in a success, no matter what I’ve said in the past. I wish I had taught you that, at least._ “However, I would think about what this will cause in terms of her brother and mother. We are losing against them and this little game of yours will only make things worse.” _He shouldn’t have killed Ned Stark… None of this would be happening, otherwise. Damn this child that I love so._

“Naturally, it’s going to happen whether or not you agree. It is not your choice, or the small counsel’s. I just admire the illusion of choice. As for grandfather, I think he will find the arrangement agreeable, if not, he will have to deal with it. I don’t care who Sansa Stark is or was, this is going to happen one way or another.” Joffrey sat back at his desk and bit his thumb, lost in thought. Cersei sighed and took a gulp of the wine she held in her hand before crossing her legs.

“When will it be announced?” _Not at all if I have anything to say about it._

“Soon, mother. Very soon. I haven’t decided if it will happen before or after my own wedding. I still have other things to set into motion before your little Stark ‘dove’ is thrust into this happy affair,” Joffrey spat before standing and taking his mother’s arm in his. “Don’t worry, mother. She has time to enjoy being a dove for a while longer.”

* * *

The past few weeks had seemed hectic around the Red Keep as the remanence of Stannis Baratheon’s attack began to dissipate. Although the higher nobles continued to celebrate and fill their pride with nightly parties and dinners, those below them were left with the clean-up and criminal aftermath, bringing forth a stench of tension between the people and their rulers after such a momentous victory. Sandor, of all people, had been able to stay neutral as business proceeded in and out of court. He spent most of his time, per his King’s command and through some of his own motivations, with Sansa; walking in the gardens and keeping watch over her and Shae as they kept to themselves, gossiping and giggling about the men and women at court, and talking to her about anything and everything that came popped into her mind when they were left alone.

Tyrion had turned out to not be dead, after all, and had recently woken up, finding himself cast out of the Tower of the Hand. Although Sandor had thought it funny that the little man had finally been put in his place, Sansa and her Handmaiden, Shae, had seemed to take pity on the man and were some of the only people at court to show Tyrion any sort of kindness, much to Sandor’s annoyance.

“Dog, waiting for your master?” Tyrion came limping down the corridor towards the Great Hall where Sandor stood at attention, waiting for Sansa to answer her summons to court for the day so they could both take their respected places in the hall. _Yet another day I get to watch that bastard fling his kingly cock around, acting like he knows what’s best – if he even knows what is going on outside his safe walls. Surely, he doesn’t know the people still hate him and only keep some amount of peace because of his new bride-to-be._ Sandor turned his attention back to the decrepit, sarcastic dwarf and scoffed.

“What are you doing out of bed, little man? Wouldn’t want you to fall, now, would we? Who would help you?” Sandor rolled his eyes as he remained in the same spot.

“I believe Sansa Stark would. You remember her, don’t you? You’re completely taken with her, I believe? Spend all your free time doting on her.” Sandor gripped the hilt of his sword, taking a step toward the Dwarf Lannister – _I do not “dote” on her, little Lord…_

“Oh, don’t worry, Dog. I wouldn’t be the one to tell our favorite Monarch, my punishment for saying anything would be just as bad as yours. Your secret is safe with me.” Tyrion chuckled as he entered the Great Hall. “Which reminds me, my presence here, isn’t because of my deepest need to embarrass myself in front of nobles, my nephew ordered me here, along with our Lady Stark. An announcement I ‘have to be present for’. I’ll stay out of your way” Tyrion bowed to Sandor and found his way to the gallery to watch the ceremonies proceed.

_An announcement? Seven Hells, what does that even mean?_ Sandor was pulled from his fear as Joffrey made his way into the Great Hall, followed by the usual Nobles and Sansa, trailing behind in an expensive, yet innocent looking, light blue garment. _Tyrion must have warned her about Joffrey’s plan. Smart girl._

Court business had proceeded like usual and as the hours went by, Sandor began to think that the Dwarf Lannister had lied to him. The last of the counsels’ agenda had been adjourned, and the court session should have ended. Sandor looked up at Sansa in the gallery, she must have felt the same way as she had a small smile forming on her lips, however, just before relief had been able to wash over the two, Joffrey’s voice rang through the hall.

“Before we conclude today’s matters, I have a few announcements. Hound, come to the foot of the throne.” Sandor walked down the steps to Joffrey’s side, his gaze never leaving Sansa. “Dog, I have a gift for you. I name you a knight and I, along with the small counsel, have decided it is time for you to take your title and enjoy it from your own estate – with a wife you keep you warm at night, naturally.” _Seven Hells._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying Sansa and Sandor are going to be forced into marriage, but I'm not saying it isn't going to happen, either. Who knows?


	7. Choose Wisely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey makes his decision vocal but the elder Lannisters plan to intervene. Sandor heads to tell Sansa the big news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... such a long time for such a short chapter. School has started again and the lack of sleep is stripping me of my creativity. Enjoy xx I will try to post again soon.

“Dog, I have a gift for you. I name you a knight and I, along with the small counsel, have decided it is time for you to take your title and enjoy it from your own estate – with a wife you keep you warm at night, naturally.” Sandor felt his heart stop for a second as Joffrey’s announcement hit him. _Take a wife? There’s no way in all the kingdoms that any woman would want to be with this._ He grunted and bowed his head.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

He watched as Joffrey’s face curved into an evil smirk. “Of course, naturally, the small counsel and I will not be leaving the choice entirely up to you and would like to discuss this further in our next meet if you’ll join us.” Sandor grunted in response once more and bowed before taking his place beside the boy king’s throne as business adjourned for the day.

After court was dismissed, Sandor was brought to the small counsel chamber and seated next to Joffrey, hoping he could change the king’s mind about the knighthood and marriage. _I’m not the husband kind. What does this rodent have in mind for me? How is THIS a reward. Little Fucker._ “So, Sir Clegane, how does it feel to be knight?” Lord Baelish’s voice rung over the silence that Sandor had all but been craving since the announcement and he grunted facing the skinny Master of Coin.

“I’m not one of those knights in your stupid fairytales – Shouldn’t you be in the Vale by now instead of here pushing for the placement of my sword in your belly?” Lord Baelish lifted his hands in defeat and sat next to the disgruntled Hound.

“I should be, by now, but it seems Tyrion was not fully equipped to take over with such notice and I do care for the fiery red head that we hold captive here. If I had any say, I’d have the girl wedded and bedded to someone worthy.” _You mean yourself of course._ Sandor rolled his eyes and focused his attention on Joffrey as he welcomed the members of the small counsel with a boyish grin.

“Before we get to any business that takes too much time and attention for me to want to handle, I would like to address my most recent announcement regarding Sir Clegane, here.” Joffrey motioned to him before pacing before the counsel. “Now, I have actually decided on a wife for you, Hound. But have yet to inform all of you, excluding the Queen Regent of course.” A small smiled planted itself on Cersei’s face before she looked at Sandor with disgust. _Oh gods above and below don’t tell me…_

“We are all aware of your choice, grandson. As preposterous as it sounds, there isn’t anything we can do about it, Your Grace.” Tywin Lannister stood and glared at the boy king before pointing toward Sandor. “This man, the dog,” he spat, “will be the ruin of us if you do such a thing with the Stark girl. She is a lady – ”

“And he is a knight, a lord, even now that his brother has been on the run. You will all do as I command. Clegane, rather than ‘sir’ you will be recognized as a Lord so to be ‘worthy’ of such a gift, hopefully appeasing the counsel!” He shrieked, the crack in his voice cutting in Sandor’s skull.

Sandor stood and bowed to the small counsel before taking a few steps away from the counsel table. “Your Grace, I ask if you could be merciful to the Stark girl. As much as I thank you for this gift, I do not want to put his Grace in danger over something so small.” The words were sour on his tongue as he lied through his teeth. Of course he knew that the best way to protect Sansa from this monster was to be with her, he had realized what was going on almost immediately after the announcement, but he also knew if the king wanted a full on war with the Starks, this was the way to do it, and it would put Sansa in the midst of a fire he couldn’t stand up to. _Besides the obvious, how could I tell the little thing how I was about to ruin her life…?_

“No, I wont be in danger and this is my command. You, DOG, will obey. Now go, you have news for your betrothed. I want the wedding to take place before the royal wedding planning is in full effect.” Joffrey waved his hand, dismissing the Hound and continuing on to more pressing matters in the counsel. _Fuck. The poor little bird…. My poor little bird._

* * *

Cersei sat patiently as small counsel business stretched over the hours after Joffrey’s court announcement and small counsel decision. She had hoped to stamp any idea of marrying off Sansa to the Hound, but Joffrey had acted quicker than she thought he would. _The Hound to a lady. What a joke. Even she deserves better than that._ A small frown stamped on her face disappeared when her father, Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, dismissed all but Tyrion and Cersei herself.

“Thanks to our beloved king’s rash decision in the knighthood and now lordship of Sandor Clegane, I now have to make better arrangements for the two of you.” Cersei raised an eyebrow at her father as he began to speak of The Hound’s betrothal to Sansa Stark. “It really does put us at a disadvantage. What do you think Rob Stark is going to do when he finds out we married a highborn lady to a Clegane?”

“He is a Lord, dear father.” Tyrion’s incessant sarcasm made Cersei scoff.

“A Lord. Yes. And a dog. I told Joffrey not to do this, but my advice is only that.” Cersei sipped from her never emptying wine glass and eyed her father. “What arrangements are we talking about exactly?”

“Marriage. Yours to begin with, and Tyrion’s.”

It came so suddenly that Cersei could only stare at her father. “No. Not again. I will not.” Her cheeks reddened with anger. _How dare he. Not after Robert._

“You will. You are still fair and fertile, and I will see you married and bedded to see these disgusting rumors about you and Jaime ended.” Tywin eyed his daughter as she formed her rebuttal.

“Three children is quite sufficient. I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not a brood mare! The Queen _REGENT!”_

“You are my daughter and will do as I command.” His stern voice quieted Cersei to little less than a pout. “You will marry, and you will breed. And if you want any say you will sit there quietly until we cover all of the options we have set before us. Oberyn Martell might suit, but the Tyrells wouldn’t appreciate it, seeing our man is the one who killed off their family at one point. I have considered the Redwyne twins, Theon Greyjoy, Quentyn Martell, and a number of others.”

“No. I object to wedding _any— ”_

“I had considered Ser Loras but he has taken the white, maybe his brother.” _Willas Tyrell? You’ve got to be joking. The cripple of Highgarden_ “He is the Heir to Highgarden and we would be able to advance our name outside of Casterly Rock and King’s Landing.” Lord Tywin concluded, “but if you would prefer another, I will hear your reasons. As for you Tyrion, I was going to marry you to the Stark girl but given I have no say in our King’s choices, we will have to also find you a suitable match, unless we can arrange something with the King about giving the poor girl a choice.”

“How kind of you, Father.” Cersei said with icy courtesy. _A great choice. Who would I rather take into my bed first? An old squid or crippled dog boy. And Tyrion married? He’d sooner scare the poor woman._ Cersei sighed and rose to her feet, “I shall need a few days to consider. Do I have your leave to go?” Tywin nodded and with a quick turn of her heel, Cersei exited the room. _I will not be subjected to such horror, ever again. What to do…_

* * *

Sansa had left court in a fit of confusion. “Why had Tyrion told me anything if I had no place in that meeting?” She turned to Shae who had kept quiet since Sansa’s return to her chambers. “I was so scared that I was going to be beat in front of everyone again, or worse, that there was news about my brothers and mother.” Sansa blinked back tears at the thought of what was left of her family and sighed. “But, it was just a normal day, outside the news for ‘Sir’ Clegane.” Sansa giggled at the sound. _Oh, how he must all ready hate the title._ Sansa bit her lip as her smile grew and started to twiddle with her hair. “Shae, you’re quiet. What’s going on?”

Shae coughed and looked back at Sansa who was starting to zone out and quickly pulled her from it. “My Lady, I was told not to tell you, but I can’t hold it in any longer. You aren’t going to like what I know, and I hope you’ll forgive me for bringing such news to you.” Sansa’s smile disappeared as her attention focused in on what Shae was trying to say.

“Well….? Out with it, don’t leave me drowning in suspense and worry.” Shae nodded and sat Sansa down, placing herself directly across from her, the light from the setting sun glowing against her worried features. _It can’t be that bad, can it? Rob and Mother are fine, Joffrey would have gloated about it, otherwise._

Shae took a deep breath and started in on her news. “My Lady, I know you love him like family because he has taken care of you and defended you, but there is more going on with the Hound than you are aware of, whether it is by his request of Joffrey’s cruel nature, there are things being put in motion that you haven’t been let in on. You see, Tyrion told me to tell you to dress well today because he knew that Joffrey’s announcement was going to concern you in one way or another.”

“But it didn’t. It was all average court affairs outside of Sandor’s knighthood.” Sansa sat for a second and recollected her thoughts about court. She had noticed how he hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from hers the entire time, worry almost permanently etched into his face, like he was expecting something more to happen. _It can’t be. He wouldn’t agree to forcing me into something like that, not without talking to me first. Joffrey is as scared of him as anyone else is._ Before Shae could continue, a loud knock against Sansa’s chamber door pulled them away from their conversation. Shae growled before opening the door to a flustered Sandor.

“Ah, ‘Sir’ Clegane. We were just talking about you.” Shae set her hands on her hips at Sansa’s joke and looked back at her.

“It’s lord, now. I need to talk to Lady Stark, handmaid.” Shae stepped aside and eyed him as he stepped into the room. “Little Bird, before I tell you this, you need to know that we have no choice if you want to get home safe.”


End file.
